


Bluebells

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: I Capture the Castle - Dodie Smith, I Captutre the Castle - Film
Genre: Coming of Age, F/M, First Time, Porn Without Plot, Stephen got a raw deal in the film, bluebells, sex al fresco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24267469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: You and Stephen discover each other's bodies on a carpet of bluebells.
Relationships: Stephen Colley/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Bluebells

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lokimostly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokimostly/gifts).



> WARNING: Loss of virginity, male and female.

Leaning on the fence, you stared out at the field of cows. Your father had loaned a bull from a neighbouring farmer and the animals were…. Getting rather busy to say the least. You watched in astonishment as the piebald bull mounted the brown cow, penis snaking out to enter her. The cow’s eyes rolled and you wondered that she didn’t collapse under the enormous weight of the bull.

“He’s not hurting her.”

Your foot slipped on the fence and you turned to see Stephen Colley a few feet away, hefting a wheelbarrow full of picked crops.

“If you were worried about that,” he added in that soft country accent.

His tumble of hair, the colour of the chocolate you got to taste so rarely, living here in the sticks, curled boyishly over his forehead, his blue eyes the colour of the sky on a humid summer’s day. His shirt was unbuttoned to the top of his worn, tweed waistcoat. He was a few years older than you, had been working on your father’s estate since before you could remember.

You’d watched him grow from a boy into a man. Seen the small nicks on his jaw when he’d first learned to shave. 

You felt your face flush, and looked away. The bull was still thrusting noisily into the cow, who now seemed rather indifferent to the whole affair. 

“It’s just…”

Stephen put down the wheelbarrow. “What?” His soft word carried to you on the summer breeze.

“Is it like that? For people, I mean.” Your face flushed. “She…. looks so bored.”

He stepped a little closer. His scent wound around you, fresh earth and strong tea and clean sweat. “Curious?”

You glanced at him, those puppy dog eyes such an intense blue, the softness in them a contrast to the strong line of his jaw, his defined muscles. You’d seen him shirtless a time or two when he’d worked in very hot weather, or that summer day when he’d gone down to the stream to wash off, his braces hanging at his hips, shirt draped over a tree branch, water sluicing down his chest and into the waist of his trousers.

That evening, after everyone had gone to sleep, you’d touched yourself for the first time, to the memory of Stephen’s body, golden in the afternoon sun.

“I guess,” you hedged. You had known Stephen all your life. You could admit that to him, couldn’t you?

The breeze moved a curl of your hair, and Stephen lifted a hand to tuck it back behind your ear, his gaze dropping to your mouth. “I think about you sometimes. About showing you.”

“Showing me…” You gestured to the cows. “That? You? And me?” Your voice lifted at the end and you weren’t proud of the pitch you reached.

“Yes,” Stephen murmured, his voice dropping half an octave.

“But you.. Have you…” You knew he crossed the fields every Friday evening to play cards with the boys of the neighbouring farms. What else he did in the Cartwrights’ hayloft, you didn’t know. But you had jealously imagined it plenty of times.

His hand slid down to your neck, thumb stroking your pulse point. “Not  _ that. _ Not… all the way.” He tilted his head towards the copse behind you. “The bluebells are out. They’d make a fine bed for you.”

The image his words conjured made you feel that tightness inside, the spiralling  _ want _ you felt when you thought about him touching you in all your secret places. “Stephen…”

“Say you want me, and I’m yours,” he whispered earnestly. He bent his head to yours, and you smoothed a hand up his waistcoat, the tweed rough under your palms. You lifted your face that last inch, and then he was kissing you, his mouth urgent and sweet and warm. He tasted of strong tea and peppermints, and you gasped as he licked into your mouth, bringing up his other hand so he cupped your face, holding you still for his kiss.

You hadn’t known it could be like  _ this, _ hot and urgent but sweet and slow at the same time, the pressure in your breasts and between your thighs building, your veins suddenly hot.

On impulse you grabbed one of his hands and guided it to your breast. Stephen’s surprise showed in a little hitch of his breath, and then he was touching you, stroking with just the right around of pressure through your dress, and  _ oh God it was everything, _ and you pressed into his palm, hearing a keening sound and realising belatedly that it had come from your own lips.

“Come with me,” he pleaded softly. “Let me lay you down in the bluebells.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes.” 

With a grin, he swept you off the ground and up into his arms. You squeaked in surprise as he carried you through the trees and into the secluded copse where the bluebells grew, soft and vibrant, a carpet of riches. The sun shone through the leaves of the oak trees, warming the ground.

Stephen set you down and stripped off his waistcoat and shirt, laying them on the bluebells, a makeshift bed.

You reached for him, not knowing what you wanted, only that you wanted  _ him. _ Smoothing your hands up his chest, you felt his heart beat under your palm.

“I want you, more than I’ve wanted anything,” he groaned, kissing you again. You wound your arms around his neck and his hands slid down your sides to cup your behind, lifting you against him. You felt a hot hardness pressing into you, and shied away for a second.

Concern darkened Stephen’s eyes. “I won’t hurt you, I swear it.”

“I know.” You stepped back into the circle of his arms, wanting to try again. “I’ve never….”

Stephen took your hand, palm up, and pressed it to that place between his legs. “Feel what you do to me.”

You followed his lead, curling your fingers around the length of him, hot beneath the thick, worn trousers. He closed his eyes and you heard him draw in a deep breath, muttering an expletive under his breath.

“More,” he bit off, his free hand stripping the buttons of his trousers loose all in one go, and suddenly he was in your hand, hot skin, steel under velvet. You gripped his cock experimentally and it jerked in your palm. A surge of power speared through you and you let your other hand play, curling your fingers around him, stroking your thumb over the soft head of him.

“ _ Fuck,” _ he cursed. “Like that.” His hands came to rest on your hips, clutching tightly as you explored, learning what made him curse throatily, what made his body tremble under your strokes.

“Is this good?” you asked, watching his face.

“Faster,” he whispered harshly, and you did as he bid. Wetness seeped out of the tip of him and coated your hands, smoothing your actions. In scant minutes he was thrusting into your hands, his eyes closed tightly, face flushed. You’d rarely seen anything more beautiful than Stephen being wrought apart at your hands.

He bit off your name as you tightened your grip, sensing now how he liked it. You widened your fingers to encase more of him, let your other hand play at the base of his cock where his balls felt high and hard.

“Christ!” His hands clenched hard on your hips as he came, the evidence of his desire for you spattering over your dress and his naked chest. His chest heaved as breath tore from his lungs.

You leaned up to kiss him. He was  _ stunning _ like this, wrecked, face rosy and hair tumbled messily. “Was that…?”

He sucked in a breath. “I thought I was going to die.” 

“And that’s good?” you squeaked, alarmed.

“Yes, that’s good.” He arched a dark brow. “You’ve  _ never  _ done this before?”

Your face heated. “I sometimes read my sister’s…. Books. They, um, describe things.”

“I see,” he smiled. Pulling a cloth from his pocket, he tidied you both up, then stripped out of his trousers, socks and boots. “Your turn.”

You stood obediently as he undressed you slowly in the warm kiss of the afternoon sunshine, first your dress, then your petticoat and finally your smalls and shoes. Scooping you up in his arms again, he lay you down on the bed he’d made of his clothes.

“A faerie princess, caught amongst the bluebells.” 

Your heart turned over. “Is that how you see me?”

“Yes. Always have,” Stephen murmured as he stretched out beside you. He leaned up on one arm and trailed his fingers down your breastbone, slowly exploring your body. “Never in all my days did I think I’d have this privilege.” He paused, something sad passing over his face, and he lifted his fingers. “I’ve…. Rough hands.”

“No. You could never be rough with me, Stephen.” You took his hand and clasped it over your breast. “Please.”

He growled low in his throat and then bent his mouth to you, licking and then sucking at one nipple at a time, moulding your sensitive flesh in his palm. You gasped his name as he let his mouth play, sliding his hand down your body to the secret place between your legs. Your thighs parted as he cupped your mound, slipping one finger down to stroke the bud you touched when you were alone in bed, thinking about him.

“Here?” he whispered against your breast.

“ _ Yes. _ ”

He started to draw small circles there, just how you liked it. His skin was just the right side of rough, adding delicious friction.

“ _ Stephen. _ ”

He lifted his head, half a day’s stubble scraping your skin pleasantly.

“I want to put my mouth there.”

Your heart raced. You nodded.

Stephen moved between your legs, and you watched as a curl of his dark hair flopped forward. His breath ghosted over you, and then he was licking you, right  _ there _ where it felt like your pulse beat, and the pleasure washed over you like a sunrise, ebbing and flowing, until he slipped two fingers inside you, curling his tongue around your pleasure centre  _ just so, _ and your body bucked and white hot  _ joy _ coursed through you.

When you came back to yourself, Stephen moved up your body, kissing your stomach, his mouth shiny wet. “You liked it.”

You let out a long breath. “Why do people ever do  _ anything  _ else if they can do this?”

He chuckled, and you watched him stroke himself, hard again. Your internal muscles clenched.

“I want to be inside you.”

You nodded, holding his gaze. “Will it hurt?”

“I can’t promise it won’t.”

“Will it hurt  _ you? _ ”

His brow furrowed. “I don’t know. I’ve never… come this far.” His cheeks turned rosy and he looked away. “I was waiting for you.”

Your eyes burned, and you pulled him close. “I’m yours.”

Stephen settled over you, and you felt the weight of his cock on your belly. You lifted your legs and hooked your calves over his, like you’d seen in your sister’s adult books.

“I swear I’ll make it good for you.” Stephen braced himself on his forearms as he moved his hips. The head of him pressed against you, and you breathed out, willing yourself to relax, cupping his butt, easing him into you. He felt huge, prohibitively so, and you winced.

Stephen kissed your forehead. “We can stop. I’ll stop.” He started to try and withdraw.

“I want to do it,” you gritted.

He pushed ahead, oh, so slowly, his pace glacial. Finally you felt something stretch, then a sharp burn. You cried out, one tear, then two, leaking from beneath your closed lids.

“Don’t cry, please don’t cry,” Stephen pleaded, going rock still. “Let’s stop.” 

You kept your hands on his butt and your legs around his. “No. It’s… getting better.” Yes, he felt huge, but the pain was ebbing, giving away to a delicious  _ fullness.  _ “It feels good, now.”

Stephen rested his forehead on yours. “You’re so tight. I don’t know if I can…”

You experimentally squeezed your muscles around him and felt his cock jerk in response.

“ _ Fuck, _ ” he groaned. “I can’t….” He started to pull out, then moved back in. “Oh, Christ, yes, I’m…..” His hips bucked into you, almost involuntarily. “...... _ Fuck. _ ”

Watching him come apart was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. You stroked the hair back from his forehead. “It’s all right.”

He thrust back and forth twice more, the strain on his face evident, and then his body jerked and tensed, and he gritted out your name through clenched teeth. You felt the warm spill of his come inside you, and a lovely warmth when he collapsed on top of you.

For a long time, you listened to his breathing slow, drawing lazy circles on his broad back. The sunshine was dappled by the sway of the oak tree branches, and the bluebells felt soft and warm under Stephen’s clothes.

Finally he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck. “Thank you. I’m sorry you didn’t… I didn’t make you….”

You smiled lazily, loving the weight of him, the feel of his breath on your skin. “It’s all right. What did… with your tongue, that was…. Wow. And there’s always next time, right?” 

He made a sound halfway between a groan and a laugh. “I think I might’ve died and gone to heaven. Do they have bluebells there?”

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Let’s just stay right here, in case they don’t.” 

  
  



End file.
